


Just Buy a Dildo

by ThrallofPentacles



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Bryce is trying his best not to be turned on, Crying, He's just bad at it, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Situational Humiliation, Undertones of Internalized Homophobia, Unwanted orgasm, a supremely awkward ER visit, and handcuffs, believe it or not the doctor actually stays professional, in the sense that nobody really wants this to be sexual, sex toy stuck in the ass, the author's very dubious understanding of how ERs work, the inherent eroticism of being ashamed of your own desires, the vicious cycle that is being ashamed of having a humiliation kink, though he's probably going to lose his entire shit about this later, unwanted arousal, watching porn, which contains anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrallofPentacles/pseuds/ThrallofPentacles
Summary: Bryce didn't click on the video on purpose. He wanted nothing to with it, he's never been the slightest bit tempted to put a finger in his ass. Except that now he can't stop wondering... what would it feel like?It turns out, it feels like driving himself to the hospital at two in the morning because he has a flashlight stuck up his ass, and then humiliating himself so thoroughly in front of the doctor that he can never look another human being in the eyes again. Who would have guessed?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	Just Buy a Dildo

One misclick. That was all it took to shatter Bryce's pride forever.

He sure as fuck hadn't been  _ looking  _ for gay porn. It was just one of those stupid pop-up ads, and it had cropped up right under his mouse while he was  _ trying  _ to hit a button to download the next Crimson Riders game. Then all of a sudden his screen was taken over by a guy about his age bent over a metal bar, handcuffed and helpless, while an older man sank into him from behind.

Bryce froze. He stared, too shocked to click away, as the camera zoomed in on the guy's hole. As the man's cock breached him, pressing deep inside, making him whimper and moan. Then his ears filled with the sound of their balls slapping together, the guy being fucked begging for more, harder,  _ please sir! _

He slammed his laptop shut. Swallowed convulsively. And then, with dawning horror, looked down. His dick was rock hard.

"That's normal," he said, willing away the hot flush in his cheeks. "Totally normal." He'd gotten hard watching his socks in the dryer once. It meant nothing. Sure, he'd been seventeen at the time, but it wasn't like being in his twenties meant the hormone roller coaster was  _ over. _ Sex noises had that effect on men. That was all it was.

That was what he told himself, as he gave up trying to will away his hard-on and slid his hand into his pants. What he kept insisting, even as flashes from the video kept popping into his head as he stroked his dick. It was just an annoyance. It meant nothing. His head tipped back, and he came still picturing the way the guy's asshole had stretched around that thick, hard cock.

It was like he'd been possessed. This one traitorous little thought had wormed its way into his head, burrowed so deep there was no escaping it.

_ What would it feel like? _

Bryce squeezed down hard on his dick, bracing himself against the wall of his shower and fucking into his fist. Hot water cascaded down his back, into the cleft of his ass. His fingers were slick with soap. All he had to do was reach back... but he didn't. He just thought about it, sick shame coiling up in his guts until he spurted.

He couldn't get hard without thinking about it. And every time he thought about it, he got hard. It even happened at the gym once, right while he was in the middle of stretching, because he bent over and thought,  _ what if some man just—? _ and all of a sudden he had to put his gym bag in his lap to hide the bulge.

It had to stop.

That was what kept running around and around in Bryce's head, as he rutted desperately against his hand. It was nearly one in the morning, and he was exhausted, and so horny he could hardly think. He'd been trying to get off with his hand for almost ten minutes now. Bryce drizzled more lube onto his dick and started up again, groaning in frustration at the slick slide.

This was stupid. There was no way it actually felt that good. Probably just hurt like hell, and the guy on the video was faking. So... maybe that was all he needed. Just a tiny little experiment, to prove that he wasn't into it. And then he could go back to masturbating like a normal guy.

He squeezed a bit of lube into his hand and spread it all over his fingers. Slowly, tentatively, he eased his legs apart. "What the hell am I doing?" he breathed, as he reached down. One finger brushed between his cheeks, wet and _cold,_ and he yelped. "Oh fuck, what am I _doing?"_

Bryce touched his asshole and let out a little whimper. It tingled, hot and electric, sending a rush of heat right to his dick. He kept on like that, just touching it, rubbing his finger in tiny circles, until the muscle started to go slack. A long, low moan came from somewhere deep in his chest as he felt the tip of his finger slip inside.

He was so  _ hot  _ in there. So hot and slick and filthy. His finger probed deeper, his toes curling into the slow stretch. Bryce had been right about one thing—it did hurt, a slight sting that eased as he swallowed his index finger right up to the knuckle. But that didn't stop it from feeling good. If anything, it made it better.

"More," he gasped, as he pumped his finger in and out. "Fuck, more, I need more..."

Bryce's breath came in shallow pants as he teased himself with his middle finger, slowly stretching himself open. His legs spread as wide as they would go, his knees curling in towards his chest to expose his asshole.  _ God,  _ he was acting just like the boy in the video.

"Please, sir," he whispered, as his third finger slid in. He pictured himself bent over for that faceless man, handcuffed and forced to take it, forced to beg for it like a good little—

He groaned again. He needed more. Not more fingers, but something that could go  _ deeper. _ He needed something that would feel like a real cock. His eyes cast frantically around the room, and finally settled on a slim flashlight, maybe eight inches long.

Bryce grabbed it. He squirted more lube into his hand, rubbing up and down the flashlight, then got on his knees and squatted over it. The blunt end rubbed against his hole. He imagined himself sitting in a man's lap, spread out over his cock. Sinking slowly down, he filled his room with keening whines and moans as it split him open.

He worked himself up and down, delirious with pleasure. Driving the flashlight deeper and deeper inside him with every stroke, until he was taking it right to the base. Pressure built, and he started frantically stroking himself with his free hand, until his hips jerked forward and he painted his stomach with his release.

And as he came, his muscles tensed and spasmed. Including his asshole. One second, he had his fingers around the very bottom of the flashlight—the next, he clenched down hard and it disappeared inside him.

It took a second for Bryce to realize what had just happened. He was still fuzzy from his orgasm—so he casually slipped his fingers back inside himself to pull it out, and accidentally shoved it several inches deeper.

"Shit." He took a few rapid, shallow breaths. "Fuck." Bryce tried again, spreading himself with one hand and trying to reach in to snag the flashlight with the other. But soon it was so far up inside him he couldn't even touch it with his fingers. "No, oh no, no no  _ no—!" _

Bryce tried everything he could think of. More lube, pushing, pressing his other hand against his stomach. But he could hardly get his fingers into his ass now, it was clenched so tightly. Eventually, he realized he had no other choice. He had to go to a doctor. He was going to be one of  _ those  _ people, from the funny stories people told about working in the emergency room.

He had to hobble around his apartment to wash his hands and dress himself, squirming all the while at the feeling of the heavy weight shifting around inside him. The worst thing by far was that his stupid dick didn't even have the decency to wait a few minutes before it started taking an interest. It couldn't get hard again yet, but it was definitely starting to twitch.

Some tiny fragment of dignity remained in the fact that he could at least drive himself to the hospital. And, of course, all the while the vibration of the car set the flashlight shifting around in his ass, making him flush from the tips of his ears right down to his chest. He had to tie a sweatshirt around his waist to hide his erection as he finally got out of the car and shuffled into the hospital.

From there? A lot of waiting in a tiny chair that creaked every time he tried to shift his weight, to make it a little easier to ignore the giant flashlight stuck up his ass. He avoided eye-contact with the other people in the waiting room like their gazes could vaporize him. When it was his turn, Bryce refused to tell anyone what was wrong with him, except for the fact that his stomach hurt. Eventually, an exasperated nurse threw his hands up and sent him in to talk to the doctor.

He sat on the observation table, bunching his sweatshirt up in his lap because he still wasn't all the way soft, and hadn't been since the moment he came. He was sweating by the time the doctor finally came in. Bryce took one look at the man's face, his stern features and salt-and-pepper hair, and swore.

He looked a lot like the man on the video.

The doctor raised his eyebrows. "I think the word is usually  _ hello,"  _ he said, and shut the door behind him.

Bryce flushed. "Sorry."

"Quite alright. I'm doctor Sylas, and I'm told you've been having abdominal cramps?" Sylas glanced at the clock on the wall. It was about half past two in the morning. "Has anything happened recently that might... explain that?"

"I. Um." Bryce swallowed hard. He'd rehearsed his cover story on the way over. And in the waiting room. He could do this. "So, my power went off while I was in the shower, right?"

Sylas rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Right."

"And, uh, it was too dark to get dressed, so I just kind of got out and started looking for the fusebox. I had this flashlight in my hand, because it was dark, and then I slipped on the stairs and... um. It got stuck."

"Uh-huh." Sylas snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. "I'm going to need you to pull your pants down."

Bryce shimmied out of his jeans. He was careful to face away from the doctor as he undressed, biting his lip and willing his half-hard cock to  _ get down already! _

"Okay. Can you bend over the observation table for me?"

He did as he was told, bracing his hands on the paper sheet that was draped over it. Blood rushed south.

"Down on your elbows."

There was a strange ringing in his ears as he presented himself, ass in the air, while the doctor clicked open a bottle of lube. What the hell was  _ happening? _

"I'm going to try to reach in and get it," said Sylas. "Take deep breaths, okay? The more you relax, the easier this will be."

Bryce tried. He really did. But then he felt gloved fingers sinking into him, and he let out a strained whine. His dick was fully hard now, stiff against his stomach. Could Sylas see it? And then it didn't even matter, because his hand went deeper and he brushed against something that made Bryce let out an honest-to-fuck  _ moan. _

He buried his face in his arms. How was he somehow managing to make even more of an idiot out of himself than getting a flashlight stuck up his ass? At this point he wouldn't be surprised if the doctor gave up on him in disgust.

_ "Why bother taking it out? You're obviously the kind of guy who likes having something up his asshole,"  _ he might say. Then, he would start unbuckling his belt. _ "Here. Why don't I push it a little deeper for you? Would you like that, you fucking pervert?" _

Sylas cleared his throat. Bryce nearly jumped out of his skin. Then it hit him what the  _ fuck  _ he'd been imagining for the past few seconds, and his whole body lit up like a stop sign. "S-sorry," he blurted.

A tired sigh came from behind him. "I can't reach it without hitting your prostate. It's not uncommon to be aroused by that, just on a physiological level. You're doing fine." The gloved hand pulled away. "That said... we're going to need to change tactics a bit. I'm going to get some muscle relaxants for you, and a speculum. While I'm gone, you can lie down on the observation table. Keep taking those deep breaths."

Ten minutes later, Bryce was flat on his back with his legs open and his insides feeling slack and pliant. He didn't think he could have invented a more humiliating position if he'd tried. Cold metal pressed into his hole as Sylas inserted the speculum, slowly prying him open.

He couldn't hold back a small groan. Focusing on how he must look to the doctor was no help—the more he thought about what a fucking pervert he was being, the harder his dick got. He'd never felt more disgusting in his life... or more turned on.

"I'm really, really sorry," he croaked, as Sylas slid his hand inside. "I don't—I'm trying not to— _ fuck!" _ It wasn't just the doctor's fingers, anymore. His whole fist was sliding into Bryce's ass. It pressed up against that sensitive spot, and a drop of precome squirted from the tip of his cock.

"I've got it," Sylas said. "Deep breath in... good." He started to pull. Bryce nearly  _ screamed— _ he could feel the whole length of the doctor's hand, plus the flashlight, sliding against his insides. There was a little button that flicked it on and off, one that stuck out slightly from the shaft. It dragged right over his prostate. He bucked and jerked, and might have clenched down if the muscle relaxants hadn't made that impossible. With a broken cry, his knees curled in towards his body and a streak of come splattered across his chest.

The flashlight slipped out with a quiet  _ pop. _

"Oh, god," Bryce whimpered, and started to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I—I don't know what's  _ wrong  _ with me. Is—is that normal?" He looked up at Sylas in frantic, delusional hope.

The doctor set the flashlight down on a small metal tray and peeled off his gloves. "I... can't say I've ever had that happen before."

God, Bryce was disgusting. He was a disgusting pervert, he should be  _ punished  _ for this, someone should put his filthy stupid cock in a vice—

"Oh, come  _ on!"  _ he sobbed, as his dick started throbbing again. Here he was, bawling his eyes out in front of a complete stranger who'd just pulled a flashlight out of his ass, covered in his own come. It made him want to shrivel up and die, to crawl into a hole and never come out, to sink down on a nice thick cock and just  _ revel  _ in it.

"Hey." Sylas snapped his fingers in front of Bryce's face. "First of all, enjoying anal play is pretty common. We wouldn't get so many cases like this if it wasn't. But you really don't need to worry so much about what's normal, especially when it comes to sex. Just be  _ safe,  _ and try to figure out all this—" he gestured at Bryce, "—in the privacy of your own home."

Bryce wiped his eyes. "Yeah. Okay."

"Speaking of which." The doctor raised an eyebrow at him. "Next time? Just buy a dildo. One with a flared base, if it's going in your butt. I can't promise no one will laugh at you the second time you come in for this at two in the morning."

There was no point gathering his dignity, at that point—every last scrap of it had been well and truly obliterated. Bryce managed a jerky nod, pulled his pants back up, and fled the room.

It was only when he got back in his car that he remembered there was jizz on his shirt.


End file.
